


Probably Still Adore You With Your Hands Around My Neck

by tallandlanky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bottom!Harry, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Halloween, M/M, Masturbation, Not Famous, Obsession, Serial Killer!Harry, Teasing, but wait, jack styles - Freeform, pls, there's also, top!Louis, you're welcome i'm going to manage to make a serial killer bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallandlanky/pseuds/tallandlanky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basically louis and harry are college roommates and harry's secretly a serial killer who has a minor (major) obsession with his rather adorable and rather gay roommate</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone if you're reading this I'm so horribly sorry that I haven't updated this in so long. I've just been swamped with school work because midterm exams are coming up. I've had some pretty bad writer's block as well which isn't really helping the cause. I know I'm trash, and I'm going to try to get better at updating this. Thank you so much if you stick around, because I know how frustrating it is when you like a fic and the author takes forever to update. 
> 
> big love,  
>  michaela

Harry wiped his hand across his sweaty forehead, smearing the deep red blood that had decorated his skin. A small smile spread across his face as he admired his handy work. She was the third one this week. That’s pretty impressive, even for him. Car horns and acoustic music invaded the flat that was located in the boroughs of London. Harry inhaled deeply, savoring the scent he’d come so accustomed to over the past few years. The sweet scent of death. His senses held onto the metallic aroma of iron in the blood as he slowly exhaled into the sticky air of the room. Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead again. Jesus Christ. Here he was, a corpse lying in front of him, the knife still in his hand and all he could care to think about is why the fuck it’s so bloody hot in October. He knows it’s silly to think of these things. That considering what he’d done he should feel immense guilt and panic. He knew he wasn’t normal, never had been. He resents the remarks they make about him. He reads them in the papers. Manic, cold blooded, heartless, murderer, but Harry knew he was just smart. Smarter than all the papers and police. Smarter than the public, who were ignorant enough to believe everything they read. Smart enough to kill 23 wait, make that 24 victims in a year without leaving any trace behind. The date is October 21st, only ten days til Halloween. That means Harry has ten days to rack up 7 more victims. That’s plenty of time for him; this should be no problem. On October 31st, Harry will have killed 31 victims since the beginning of the year.

He reaches down to lift his most recent victim off the floor and carries her to the large chaise lounge chair in the living room. He’s a very strong boy despite his tall and lanky, somewhat awkward figure. He effortlessly places her in the seat and arranges her limbs in the proper manner.

“Something’s missing” he thinks pushing his damp hair out of his face. He snaps his fingers when he realizes what the scene needs. He walks back into the kitchen and eyes the plastic, orange pumpkin full of candy. A symbol of innocence and childhood pleasure right before him. He knows it’s the perfect piece to complete the staged scene. His large hands wrap around the pumpkin as he saunters back into the living room. He gingerly places the small pumpkin into the hands of the bloody and bruised woman. He smiles with great contentment at the display he’s created. Like afore mentioned, Harry is a smart lad. He appreciates the irony behind his spectacles and stages them with such a purpose. He also hopes the police will appreciate his festivity this time. He thinks they will. He takes one last look at his masterpiece, saving the mental image for himself, before hopping out the flat window onto the fire escape.

Once he’s made his way to the roof of the grimy building he changes into a pair of clothes better suited to fit his demographic as an 18 year old university student. He’s astonished at the poor upkeep of the building’s exterior considering this is rather wealthy neighbourhood in London. He tosses the blood soaked black t shirt and pants into a pile along with the gloves he’d worn. He douses the pile of incriminating objects with a bottle of gasoline before tossing the container into the pile as well. He reaches into his pocket rummaging through the mess of headphones, gum wrappers and car keys until he finds a matchbook. He takes out a single match and spins it around in his long fingers. Staring intently at the head of the match, he drags it quickly across the coarse striking surface on the exterior of the book. A small flame ignites before Harry’s eyes bringing a small smile to his lips. He delicately drops the lit match onto the pile of objects that have been saturated with gasoline. The pile erupts into a large blaze but only for a moment until it calms down to a smaller fire. Harry was enjoying the much cooler weather outside the woman’s building until he lit the fire. Forced to stand relatively close to the fire to rid himself of the smell Harry quickly heats up again. After enough time had passed Harry backs up and gets a running start to jump to a neighbouring building.

Once he’s safely on the roof of the other building he rearranges his clothes and fixes his hair before descending down the fire escape. From an onlooker at street level or in another building he’d look like another mischievous teenager escaping a girl’s bedroom before her parents returned. His age was his greatest advantage. No one would expect an 18 year old to be so calculated or ruthless. He could walk away from crime scenes smelling of smoke as if he was at a bonfire and no one would question a thing. He could slip into a club or a coffee shop somewhere so long as he stayed below the radar, he was good as gold. He reaches the alley in between the two buildings and makes sure he looks in order before heading out onto the main street and back to his school campus.

  
**~**  


Harry takes a pair of cheap earbuds out of his pocket before untangling them with his long, bony fingers. He pushes his floppy hair out of his eyes and flips through his songs. After about 30 seconds he settles on “Creep” by Radiohead and shoves his phone back into the pocket of his tight jeans. He falls into a steady walking pace as he heads down the dark streets of London. The air is heavy on his milky white skin and he doesn’t exactly feel like walking home right now. He walks to the beat of the music and fixes his hair again. He doesn’t even do it out of vanity it’s just a habit he’s come used to. It’s involuntary at this point and his hair flip has kind of become a trademark for him among family and friends. He swallows with difficulty before searching for somewhere to get a drink. He slips into a Starbucks at the end of the block to buy an iced coffee before heading back to his dorm.

He takes a seat at one of the small tables in the corner of the store and gently wraps his lips around the green straw. He grabs one of the tattered books off the shelf next to him and runs his hands over the coarse surface. He feels the indented lettering on the front cover before flipping to the first page. Ever since he was younger he loved to read. It was his only escape from the real world. No one ever thought to ask him if he was okay when he was younger because people assumed since he came from a wealthy family that everything was perfect. His father was never around and when he was he was all business. His mother drank herself numb night and day because she didn’t want to face reality. So Harry was pushed to the side, cared for by many different nannies throughout the years until his father decided he was old enough to watch himself. He laughs to himself as he thinks psychologists would probably tell him that’s the reason he does what he does. “You come from a broken home. You were neglected as a child. Oh that’s definitely it, that’s got to be it. Harry, I really think we’ve had a breakthrough today!” He can hear them now. He’s pulled back to reality when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He checks who the text is from.

**_Louis Tomlinson_ **

_10:58 PM_

_Styles where the hell have you been? We were supposed to watch a movie tonight!! Sometimes you can be such a twat. Hurry up!!!!!_

Harry chuckles and shakes his head at his phone. He loves when Louis gets frustrated. Oh, Louis Tomlinson, what a character. Harry and Louis met almost a year ago when they both started university. Louis absolutely hated Harry at first. He thought he was the biggest asshole he’d ever met. To be fair, Harry brought that upon himself. The first words Harry said to Louis were, “hey shorty” before he patted the top of Louis’s head and threw his bags on the mattress. Harry remembers how red Louis’s cheeks got (Louis thought he hadn’t seen).

Harry smiled devilishly to himself as he said,“Hi I’m Harry”. Louis went to sit down on his own mattress, but Harry grabbed his arm and almost yelled “What are you doing?!”. Louis’s face was a mix of frightened and confused. Harry took Louis’s silence as his cue to continue. “Well, if you sit down you won’t get to enjoy being taller than me anymore. When I sit it’s your only chance to shine!” He said before laughing hysterically to himself.

Louis pulled his arm from Harry’s grasp before muttering “fucking tosser” under his breath and turning his back to put away his clothes. Harry’s favorite thing to do was take things from Louis and hold them above his head while Louis begged for him to give it back.

“What do you say Louis?” Harry would ask taunting him.

“Give it back you dick!” Louis would say punching Harry’s chest. Harry’s laugh would rumble through his chest and into the room.

“Try again, princess.” He continued to tease.

With a sigh of defeat Louis would say, “Would you please give me back my phone Harry?” With a content smile Harry would bring the phone back down to a level Louis could reach and Louis would snatch it out of his hand while glaring at him with furrowed eyebrows. Their relationship stayed like this for weeks. Harry teasing Louis and Louis getting extremely frustrated. One night in late September when neither of them could sleep their friendship was born.

“Hey Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder about the origins of man and the universe?”

“What the hell are you going on about?”

“Well, it’s just do you ever think what our purpose is? Like, why do we matter? Why were we born? Why are we here, breathing at this very moment? What is so special about humans? And do you ever think about death? When we die the world just keeps moving on. We like to think there’s life after death but Louis, what if there isn’t? We wouldn’t even register death. We wouldn’t be able to think ‘wow I’m dead.’. Everything would just stop for us. The world just keeps on going though. Isn’t that mad?” Louis contemplated Harry’s words in the darkness and it was in that moment he started to wonder if his roommate was more than some entitled asshole from a rich family. After that night Louis started to warm up to Harry and it wasn’t because Harry stopped teasing him. Harry never stopped and he still hasn’t. The thing is Louis started to like it. He started to like being called shorty and princess and darling. He should feel degraded by it like he used to but _ohgod_ coming from _Harry_ , Louis couldn’t get enough of it.

**_Harry Styles_ **

_11:02 PM_

_Calm down shorty I’ll be home soon!! I got hung up at work. I wouldn’t miss our movie night for the world. :D_

Harry shoves the worn book he didn’t even end up reading back into its place on the shelf before grabbing his coffee and heading out. He’s only a few blocks away from his flat so he doesn’t rush home. The movie they were supposed to watch doesn’t start til 11:30 anyway and he’ll be home within a few minutes. He fiddles with his necklace that hangs a little lower than the neckline of his black v-neck that fits his long torso perfectly. He shakes his hair once more before turning onto their street. He lengthens his strides as he gets closer out of excitement to see Louis. He reaches their doorstep and pulls the keys out of his back pocket before unlocking the old red door to the flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your lovely comments :D they mean sooo much. love you guys! xoxox - michaela  
> if you'd like to follow me on twitter: @deerlegsharry


	2. Chapter Two

Harry quietly shuts the large door behind him and kicks off his worn out white converse. He wants to make up for being late by surprising Louis with a maple leaf he’d grabbed off the ground on his way home. Louis loves fall, he told Harry it was his favourite season. Harry’s the kind of person to remember all those minute details about a person; details like the way Louis’s eyes flutter when he’s tired and his cheeks burn red when Harry teases him and how he stubbed his toe on the kitchen table their first day together and how his favorite song is California Daze and his mom’s name is Johannah but her friends call her Jay and his favorite toy growing up and what he asked for for his birthday (a new football). And maybe he remembers all that stuff because he’s so observant and just naturally has a great memory, but it’s probably because of his fascination with his roommate. Harry Styles is the epitome of head-over-heels for Louis Tomlinson. Some might even consider Harry to be a little obsessed with him. He’s infatuated with Louis’s gentle blue eyes that are so bright they teach the stars how to shine, and the curves of his small body that are immortalized in Harry’s memory like an image burned on the film of a Polaroid camera, and the work of art that is his smile that puts the Mona Lisa to shame. Everything about Louis from head to toe floods Harry’s mind every second of the day until the floodgates break and the words spill out of him and his feelings show on his skin. Louis asks him what his tattoos mean often and Harry’s forced to make up some bullshit excuse as to why he got two sparrows on his chest and a fucking butterfly on his stomach because as much as Harry wants to he can’t tell his roommate of a few months that he got that butterfly on his abdomen because everything about Louis makes his stomach do more than backflips, but instead a full length olympic gymnastics routine. Unfortunately, for most people obsession is a little off-putting. But Harry can’t help it. It’s Louis’s own damn fault for being possibly the most perfect boy Harry’s ever laid his eyes on.

Harry’s large feet pad across the hardwood floor as quietly as they can manage. Harry had never been the most coordinated person, which is why he’s so shit at sports. He wishes he were better at footie so he could play with Louis, but he can’t let Louis know that he has the upper hand at something. So instead Harry tries to play it cool and act like he doesn’t even want to play football with Louis even though he’d love nothing more than to see Louis sweaty with flushed cheeks, breathing heavily in his football kit.

He slowly continues maneuvering his way through the small flat cupping behind his ear in an effort to locate his roommate. He hears the low humming of the television coming from the adjacent room and gets ready to pounce. He peeks his head around the corner of the doorway to see Louis splayed out on the couch checking his phone, probably looking to see if Harry had texted him. Harry smiles at the sight of the beautiful boy before quickly running up behind him and covering his eyes.

“Guess who?!” Harry shouts and you can hear the smile in his voice. Louis squeals girlishly and giggles before turning around to slap Harry.

“You scared me!” Louis says grinning from ear to ear. Louis makes a half-assed attempt at acting mad at Harry. He ends up sighing with a smile while patting the spot next to him on the sofa and looking up at the tall boy with doe eyes. Harry ruffles his hair before not-so-smoothly jumping over the back of the couch, almost kicking Louis in the face. He reaches into his pocket for the crimson maple leaf he’d planned to give to Louis.

“Hey, Louis?” Harry asks nervously. He’s never cared about pleasing anyone as much as he cares about pleasing Louis. After all, he’s the object of Harry’s affection, or rather obsession.

“Yeah?”

“I got you something, you know, for being late.” Harry quietly says looking down at his lap. He’s so scared of disappointing him he cannot look him in the eye as he silently takes the single leaf out of his pocket and hands it to Louis. There’s a moment of silence before Louis gingerly touches the back of Harry’s large hand.

“I love it. Thank you, Harry.” Harry looks up to see Louis smiling softly at him and Harry feels his body warm up again. He relaxes his muscles and settles back into the sofa. Louis snuggles up into Harry’s side and Harry wraps a long arm around his petite frame. Harry flips to the movie channel just in time. Louis elbows Harry in the ribs and nods his head toward the light switch. Harry hesitantly stands up with a sigh and turns off the lights before returning to Louis’s side. Louis snuggles back up against him just as the screen shows the title: “The Nightmare Before Christmas”. This is one of Harry’s all time favourite movies and somehow Louis has been so unfortunate to have never seen it. Harry gets overly excited as the jack o’ lantern door opens wide and “This is Halloween” starts playing through the tv speakers. He sings along to the song and Louis smiles into his chest. About half way through the movie Louis taps Harry’s leg.

“Hmm?” Harry hums in question as to what Louis wants.

“You remind me of Jack Skellington,” Louis whispers. Harry laughs wholeheartedly and closes his eyes tight.

“And why is that love?”

“You’re really tall and pale and you’re the king. Just like Jack.” Louis replies quietly still trying to pay attention to the movie. Harry’s quite glad the lights are off otherwise Louis would see his cheeks turn bright red.

“That makes sense I guess. I don’t think I’m the king though. I’d have to be the prince because you’re the princess.” Harry whispers into Louis’s ear. Louis gets the chills from the feel of Harry’s hot breath against his cold skin. Louis gasps quietly at Harry’s words and involuntarily moves his hand to cover his crotch. Fucking hell. Louis is such an idiot. Harry’s not interested in him, Louis can tell. And now Harry just saw him try to hide a fucking hard on after he whispered in his ear. Great! Harry can feel himself getting aroused as well but he’s much better at hiding it. They both sit uncomfortably through the rest of the movie and when the credits roll Harry turns to Louis and just stares at his lips for a minute. God, Louis looks so beautiful. His lips are shiny and dark pink and his eyelashes full. The Halloween jumper of Harry’s that Harry had made him wear is at least 4 sizes too big on him and, fuck, it’s the cutest thing. If it were up to Harry he’d scatter Louis in love bites right now, make sure everyone knows he’s Harry’s. He sighs deeply while still staring longingly at his lips.

“Harry?” Louis says to break the silence. Harry jumps a bit at the sudden noise and looks up to Louis’s eyes.

“Yeah? So, uh... did you like the movie?” He says with hesitation for the first time in front of Louis. Harry always knows what to say and when to say it, but right now he’s a bit shook up.

“Mhmm. Loved it! It was quite scary for a kids movie,” Louis answers with a smile. Poor Louis. If only he knew about Harry, and what he really does when he says he’s at work, he’d have found this movie to be a fairytale, not scary. Harry silently agrees with Louis that it is a bit scary for a children’s movie before staring down at his lap.

“Uh... Lou?”

“Mhm?”

“Would you... What I meant to say is... uh... Would you be the Sally to my Jack?” Harry says heart racing faster than it ever has. He feels as if he’s about to fall over and die if Louis doesn’t say yes within 5 seconds. Louis stares at Harry for a second his eyes open wide.

“Did you... did you just ask me out?” Louis says blinking rapidly, his own cheeks flushed as well. Harry barely manages a small nod. At this point Harry literally cannot breathe. His hands are shaking and his stomach’s tied in knots. Why is he taking so long to answer? He’s going to say no. Fucking shit, he’s going to say no and I’m going to look like an idiot. This was a mistake, this was all a mistake. Harry rambles on to himself in his head as Louis sits in front of him stunned at the state of the once powerful, strong boy who teased the hell out of him for months before him.

“Yes.” That single word could’ve parted the sea, moved mountains and split the atom all at once. Harry swears it could’ve been heard around the entire world. The biggest grin breaks out on Harry’s face and he doesn’t even try to stop it because Louis is his. The object of his obsession is finally his. Harry cups Louis’s small, defined jaw in his large hands and brings him into a soft kiss. A kiss so soft Harry himself couldn’t believe a boy like him, who’d done such awful things in his life, could ever deliver it. Louis’s supple lips brush lightly across Harry’s in the most passionate kiss the two of them have ever experienced. Harry inhales deeply taking in the sweet scent of Louis, his eyes fluttering open for a moment in pleasure. Louis lets out a small whine into Harry’s mouth while pulling himself into Harry’s lap. Harry breaks their kiss leaving Louis sat there with red lips and disappointment. Harry doesn’t take long to start kissing down Louis’s jawline and neck though continuing down his collarbone leaving love bites along his way. Louis nestles his face into Harry’s neck inhaling a strong whiff of Bleu de Chanel, the eau de toilette spray Louis had seen lying around the bathroom. He pulls lightly on Harry’s messy curls to get him away from his neck and back to his lips. When Harry looks up his eyes are glossy and his lips plump. Louis’s breath hitches a bit just at the sight of the disheveled boy. Louis pulls him back in for one, long final kiss before parting again their lips ghosting over one another’s. As their breathing evens out Louis is the first to speak.

“Thanks, Jack.” He whispers into Harry’s mouth.

“No, thank you, Sally.” He replies pulling Louis into his embrace again. Louis sighs resting his head on Harry’s large chest, making himself comfortable. They remain in that position until the two both fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii everyone!! I know this chapter's kinda short but i didn't want to move past the movie scene for this chapter. I tried to make it as long as I could without it dragging on! so hopefully I'll be able to update again soon. I really hope you guys like it :D comments,kudos,etc. are always appreciated!! thank you all so much for reading the first chapter and I hope I don't disappoint with this one :) also sorry this came out so focused on the nightmare before christmas it's just one of my favorite movies haha sorry if you've never seen it all you really need to know is jack and sally are in love !  
> again follow me on twitter if you'd like: @deerlegsharry


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii everyone i'm so sorry this took me so long. I wanted this chapter to be a bit longer than the last one. I've been really busy with school lately but now i'm on break and I should be able to write a few chapters over break. If i'm not too busy with homework that is. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Thank you so much for reading :D  
> twitter: @deerlegsharry

Harry waves dorkily out the front door as Louis walks down the cheerful street. He wishes the smaller boy luck on his classes before returning to their quiet flat. It’s an absolutely gorgeous fall day: the sun is shining, birds are chirping and brightly coloured leaves scatter the ground. The day looks like it was literally taken from the b-roll of a cheesy 90’s sitcom. It’s quite ironic considering what Harry’s plans are for the rest of the day. He walks through the small corridor to the even smaller kitchen and rubs his tired eyes before outstretching his long arms while yawning, quite obnoxiously. He blinks his eyes rapidly a few times before ruffling his messy hair and grabbing the cup of tea Louis had been so kind to prepare when he made his own. He saunters to their shared bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He draws the heavy drapes, blocking any and all light from entering the room. He flips on a small desk lamp before dragging an old, dusty rug out of place on the floor. A small door is revealed which Harry quietly opens up to a 2x2 foot compartment, before pulling out a dusty shoe box from it. He carefully takes the lid off the box placing it to the side of him. Inside lay multiple polaroid pictures with messily written captions on the bottoms of them. He takes out the first picture, playing with it between his fingers. It shows a man, looks to be in his mid-to-late-40’s, wearing a suit, and carrying a briefcase. The white strip at the bottom reads “Mr. Woodhurst”.

Now there’s 4 things Harry knows to be true. Number one: there’s no way to prove anything exists outside his own head. Number two: killing people is wrong. Number three: frankly, he doesn’t care about the second thing. And number four: he’s damn good at what he does. Mr. Woodhurst is an average man: works at some law firm in the Westminster area, has a wife and a few kids. To most he looks like a good guy; he’s got a nice house, nice job, nice family, and wow, look at that Rolex he’s wearing. Tom Woodhurst: great guy. However, Harry doesn’t fit under the umbrella covering ‘most’. There was something about him that made Harry need to find out more, you know, dig up some dirt on the guy. And boy did he found out some gossip magazine worthy information. Harry thanks his lucky stars for the Internet sometimes, it makes his job a lot easier. Turns out Mr. Woodhurst has been involved in quite a few scandals in his time here on Earth. Not that shocking I guess, being a high profile defense attorney and all. There was one case in particular Woodhurst worked though that made Harry feel the biggest wave of oh-shit-I-knew-I-was-right-I-always-am he’s probably ever felt. Harry remembers whispering to himself “told you so” as if someone had argued with him about targeting the man. You see, Tom Woodhurst was Lance Finch’s lawyer.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the case, that’s quite alright. Harry knows enough about it for about 100 average citizens. Lance Finch killed a man, quite sloppily Harry might add, because he was gay. He committed a hate crime. There’s nothing more Harry hates than homophobes, except maybe the government. No, it’s homophobes, definitely homophobes. And here was Tom Woodhurst, who may or may not be a homophobe, that fact is beside the point, waltzing his way into the scene to save the bastard for his actions. The point is Tom Woodhurst got a man off, who killed a homosexual for purely that reason, and it was entirely motivated by money. He let the asshole free. Harry can’t let that stand.

Now, it’s true that Harry’s being a bit hypocritical, he’s killed, and still continues to kill a countless number of people. But it’s justified, at least to Harry it is. He thinks of himself as a superhero, eliminating the scum of society. He stands on rooftops, smoke billowing behind him, his blood stained cape burning in the flames. The police aren’t exactly the smartest people in the world, no offense. Harry prefers to take matters into his own hands. Rapists, child molesters, kidnappers, dirty cops and lawyers, you name it, Harry’s probably “taken care” of one at some point. Tom Woodhurst is no different, just another lousy man walking among the people of London. So, from that point on Harry made it a point of following him. Some people like to call it “stalking”, but that word has such a negative connotation. Harry prefers long term observation. Being a photography student at UNI and Tom Woodhurst is too self absorbed to notice anything, it’s easy enough for Harry to take pictures of him without being noticed. As for why he uses film cameras instead of digitals is well, the sake of evidence really. Once he’s moved past a victim he burns the pictures and any other notes he’d taken on them. That’s a win-win because it erases evidence and keeps his house uncluttered. Amazing.

So that leads us up to this point in time. A twisted smile spreads across Harry’s face as he lays the small pictures out across the wooden desk. Captions range from “Woodhurst leaving the office 11 Nov. ‘13” to “the prick taking a walk 16 Nov. ‘13”. Harry’s scribbled handwriting covers his desk. His mind whirls with thoughts about just how he wants to kill this bastard. How he wants to watch him squirm and beg for his life. Funny how people do that. They could be the biggest asshole in the planet, treat everyone they know like shit, but when their precious life is at stake, the beg for it back as if theirs is more important than anyone else’s. “But please, I promise if you spare me I’ll change my ways. I can be a better person I promise!! Don’t hurt me. Don’t do this” It’s amusing almost. The way people think apologies make it all better. That no matter the scale of the wrongdoing, “I’m sorry” will suffice. It’s the same as when Mercutio was slain by Tybalt and he said, “ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch”. It was a hell of a lot more than a fucking scratch, and he damn well knew it. Well, sorry for everyone, but Harry’s not God, he won’t forgive you for your sins no matter how hard you pray.

Should Harry drug him? Blindfold him? Tie him up? Make him feel like the little bitch he is. Knock him around a bit before finishing him off. Maybe he should get a cattle iron and brand the bastard with “homophobe”, make him go to his grave with a constant reminder of what he did. Yeah, that’d definitely spice things up. This one hits especially close to home for Harry, considering he’s gay himself. Harry was fortunate enough to get through high school with not much trouble from pricks about his sexuality, but he knows for others it’s not that easy. He wants to make sure this one’s perfect. Don’t be confused, Harry hates Lance Finch more than probably anyone else, but Lance Finch would be rotting away in some jail cell if it weren’t for Mr. Woodhurst. Imagine how many other scumbags he’s gotten off scot-free. It makes Harry sick. Harry contemplates the various scenarios in which he could murder Mr. Woodhurst. How, where, when, etc. He chews on the end of his pen as he thinks, his eyebrows furrowed. That’s one of the many awful nervous habits he’s acquired throughout his life. It really is bad for his teeth and lips, but then again, since when is anything Harry does in his life driven by good vs. bad?

Hours later Harry finally has the masterplan in front of him. A disaster of scribbles, messy handwriting, lines, and ink smudges lay on the desk before him. To many it’d look like mindless doodles and chicken scratch, but to Harry it was the most beautifully crafted murder he’s ever planned, and if he were someone else he’d pat himself on the back for it. Honestly, it is a very good plan. Intricate, foolproof, and incredibly pleasurable for himself, just the way Harry likes it. He’s going to make that picturesque bastard suffer. Going to make him pay for what he’s done. It’s going to be amazing. He’s completely ready for tonight, and it’s only 14:42. “What a productive day, Styles” he thinks to himself with a twisted smile. He deeply inhales the musty air of their bedroom created by the dusty shoebox he’d pulled out of their floorboard and sits up in his chair. His large hands collect all the images in sequential order before placing them back into the shoebox. He carefully folds up the piece of lined paper he’d filled with his devious plans for the night. He closes the shoebox with a content sigh and checks his watch again. 14:45. Louis is going to be home at 15:00 so Harry should probably hurry up with this, unless he wants his secret to be revealed to the only person in this shitty world he cares about.

He places the box back into the secret compartment of their floor and pulls the dusty rug back over it to conceal it. Satisfied with the floor situation, he turns his attention to the window, opening up the curtains to let some natural light in. He puts everything in place as it always is, makes sure that Louis won’t suspect anything’s off. Why would it be? Harry had been watching movies all day, and taking some photographs outside. Nothing too exciting, he’d tell Louis who wouldn’t question a thing, but instead pull his sweet serial killer in for a long kiss.

Harry closes their bedroom door on his way out and heads to the living room where he makes himself at home on their sofa. He begins flipping leisurely through the channels, scoffing at the idiotic reality shows and pausing on titles that sparked his interest. He finally settles on some documentary about sharks. He often ends up watching Animal shows a lot. A large part of that reason is the photography and videography in the documentaries is often astonishing. Harry gets caught up in the programme, not noticing when Louis makes his way into the flat, locking the door behind him.

“Hi love, I’m home” the small voice chimes from their front corridor. Harry’s face lights up at the sound of it.

“Hiiiiii I’m in the living room” Harry’s voice sleepily replies. He’d been working hard all day, so he’s a bit tired now. Needs to rest up before tonight of course. Louis’s small feet pad across the hardwood floor of the hallway before making his way to the living room. He jumps onto the couch, taking his spot next to Harry. Harry chuckles lightly at the smaller boy’s excitement. “Nice to see you too babe” Harry says pulling Louis into his lap. Louis wiggles around a bit, making himself comfortable in the larger boy’s lap. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and pecks the younger boy’s cheek quickly, a smiling spreading across his face.

“How was your day?” Louis inquires tilting his head to the side like a puppy. Anxiously awaiting his answer he bats his thick eyelashes at Harry.

“It was okay I guess, just enjoyed my day off. I watched some documentaries, took some pictures. I wish you could’ve been here though,” Harry says poking his cheek and pulling him closer into his chest. Louis nestles his head into the crook of Harry’s neck, sighing with content. He inhales deeply, enjoying the sweet scent of his boyfriend. That has a nice ring to it. _His boyfriend._ Harry is his, and that sends shivers down Louis’s spine. “Hey bub?” Harry says trying to regain the smaller boy’s attention.

“Mhm?” Louis purrs into Harry’s chest, too warm and comfortable to move. Harry just laughs at the lack of effort before rubbing circles in the small of his back.

“I have to go somewhere tonight. If that’s okay with you. It’s important that I go. It’ll only be for a few hours, just have to finish up a photography project with my partner. Will you be okay here by yourself?” Louis whines into his chest at the thought of Harry leaving him.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll have to deal without you for a little while. But you have to make me a promise, okay?”

“What is it love?”

“You have to promise we can sleep in the same bed tonight. It makes me feel safer, knowing you’re next to me.” God. How incredibly ironic that Louis feels safest in the arms of a serial killer. Poor soul, doesn’t know what he’s dealing with. Harry sighs and kisses his forehead gently.

“Of course I will, I’d be honoured.” Louis smiles into the fabric of Harry’s shirt at that. They both quietly agree to the night’s plans before cuddling up again and continuing the shark documentary Harry had been watching earlier.


End file.
